Chapter 57
Andrian grabbed Mariah’s hand, his mind a fractured mess. He pulled her into the trees, leading her away from the bonfire and revelry.
He was so grateful he’d had the foresight to arrange all this earlier that day while Mariah was getting ready, because after what had just happened…
Truthfully, he was surprised he was still standing. But, fuck, was he ready to show her exactly what she meant to him. To show her how thankful he was that she had never shied away from walking through the darkness with him, even when she struggled to find her own light.
“Where are we going?” Mariah’s green eyes glowed in the moonlight, even under the shade of the trees. Interest sparked in their depths.
“Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to be surprised?”
“You’re right. I want to be surprised.”
“I’m hardly ever wrong.”
Mariah snorted. “Gods, you’re such an asshole.” She tugged his hand, pulling him to a stop. She leaned close, eucalyptus and jasmine swimming around him. “Never change,” she murmured against his lips.
Andrian groaned. If she kept this up, he’d end up abandoning all his carefully laid plans. And he really, really didn’t want to do that.
A horse snorted. Mariah’s head snapped up toward the sound.
“Come on,” Andrian said with a smile. “And stop distracting me.”
“Says the walking distraction,” Mariah mumbled, smirking.
He was still chuckling when they found the forest path. A familiar buckskin gelding was tied to a tree, already bridled and saddled, watching them both with pricked ears and bright eyes.
“Kodie?” Mariah padded to her horse, grinning as he nuzzled into her side. She turned back to Andrian with a lifted brow.
He gestured toward the saddle. “I didn’t think you’d need help up, princess, but I’ll give you a hand if you want it.”
She rolled her eyes, pulling herself effortlessly into the saddle, the panels of her red dress draping around her. Andrian followed, settling in behind her, and tried desperately not to think about how perfectly bare she was under all those layers.
Not that it mattered. He was still painfully hard, and the closeness of being on horseback helped very little.
At least this ride was a short one. He prayed to the gods that it would be worth it.
Wrapping his arms around Mariah and gathering the reins, he gave Kodie a soft click. The gelding surged into a trot down the forest path, winding back up and deeper into the mountains.
Mariah was quiet as they rode, face tilted up to catch the stray beams of moonlight that managed to break through the canopy.
She was resplendent, her smile soft, and unfamiliar warmth bloomed freely in Andrian’s chest.
They eventually stopped their uphill climb, the path leveling out.
The cliffs rose around them, framing either side of the path.
Andrian pulled Kodie to a halt and slid from the saddle.
Mariah followed, giving her horse a gentle kiss below his eye.
Andrian unsaddled him and piled his tack near the edge of the path.
When done, he reached for Mariah’s hand. “There’s a stream just off the path,” he murmured. “He’ll be fine. He knows not to go far.”
Mariah nodded, giving the gelding one last pat. Kodie snorted softly, tossing his head, and disappeared into the trees. Andrian pulled her farther down the path, the silence of the night wrapping around them like a sweet breath.
The cliffs on either side widened at the end of the path. Andrian released a long sigh of relief.
A sigh that was punctuated by Mariah’s soft, surprised gasp.
When he’d come here earlier that day, he’d had a feeling that it would be perfect beneath the brilliant Solstice moonlight.
Even he couldn’t help but be a little dumbfounded by it now.
The tall cliffs ringed a small glade, towering sentries forming a near perfect circle. Soft, gilded grass padded the meadow, mountain snowdrops still blooming despite it being the peak of summer.
And winding through the stone of the cliffs, glimmering beneath the Solstice moons, were thick, rough bands of tanzanite.
Andrian swallowed, dropping his gaze to Mariah’s face. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly ajar. His nerves rose with skin-prickling unease.
Was it too much? Was it not right? What if she didn’t want to spend a night beneath the stars, and wanted to be back in their beautiful room instead? Had he tried to do something good, and somehow managed to fuck it all up? Again?
“We can go back to Eyarfell, if you want. I know it’s been a long day. It was a stupid idea; we don’t have to stay here—”
“Andrian.” Hands wrapped around his shoulders, snaking up to frame his face. “Stop.”
He blinked. “Do you…do you like it?”
Mariah’s face broke into a beautiful smile. A bit of the light lining her eyes spilled down her cheek—a tear. “Like it? Andrian…” She trailed off, tearing her gaze from his, sweeping it around the glade again.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” She sniffed, wiping her cheek. “I don’t even understand how it exists. Because Andrian…it’s us. This place is us.”
He swallowed. Emotion clogged his throat. The unease was gone, relief lifting some of the weight, but still his chest felt heavy.
Heavy and full and happy. It was strange but wonderful.
“I know,” he finally croaked. “Signe told me about it. Leuxrith used to mine the tanzanite here but decided to leave the glade alone when the snowdrops started to bloom. They realized that if they let this place be, the flowers would stay all through the summer instead of just blossoming in the spring like they do everywhere else.”
Mariah’s arm wrapped around his. Her forehead nestled against his chest.
“Thank you,” she said, “for showing me this.”
Andrian dropped a kiss to the top of her head before extricating himself from her. “Come here,” he said, tugging her into the glade.
With a soft, coy smile, she followed.
He easily found what he was looking for. A makeshift pallet of furs, blankets, and down-filled pillows was nestled amongst the grass and blossoms. A bed beneath the stars, more than large enough for two people.
Maybe he’d been a bit presumptuous when he’d set this up earlier that day. But despite his moments of panic and doubt, he knew his queen.
Knew there was likely nothing more she wanted than a night being worshipped under the very moons she rivaled.
Mariah folded herself onto the blankets, leaning back on her hands. He slipped off his boots and joined her. She curled into him, a familiar, wild hunger flickering in her expression.
“Wait, nio,” he whispered. She lifted a brow.
He chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that.
I fully intend to give you every bit of worship you deserve.
” He paused, heart beating faster. His hand slipped into his pocket.
Its contents had been burning against his skin for days—weeks.
But the moment had never been right, not with all the fears and trauma and heartache that had lingered between them.
Those were gone now. Now it was just her and him and the comfort that came with being truly known by the person who loved you most.
Not even Kol could ever take that from them again.
Her gaze followed the movement of his hand, expression twisting with curiosity.
“Are you going to hold me in suspense?”
Andrian cleared his throat. “Sorry. I was just—” He pushed a hand through his hair, tilting his head up to the sky.
“There’s so much I want to say, but I’ve always known that words would never suffice. How are you supposed to tell the person who saved your very soul all that they mean to you?” His gaze dropped, finding her eyes in the moonlight.
“I once swore that I would never make another promise to you. And maybe at the time, I meant it in a very different way than I do now. But truthfully, Mariah, what I meant is that I would never make another promise to you that I wouldn’t be able to keep.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing bad.” His hand slipped around her neck, her cheek pressing against his palm. “Only that any promise I swear to you now will be one that I make upon my life. Even the heavens don’t know how far I’d go to keep an oath to you.” Andrian swallowed. “Which is why…”
He wrapped his fingers around the cool metal band, pulling it from his pocket. Mariah watched, expression veiled, as he lifted his hand between them, slowly unfurling his fingers.
Lisabel Salis’s ring gleamed between them in the moonlight, the tanzanite stone twinkling like the veined canyon walls.
“I’ve been waiting for the right moment to give this to you,” he said softly, chest tight and aching. “Anniliese Hareth gave it to me when I was escaping Khento. She found it—” He stopped himself. “It belongs to you. Tonight felt like the right night to give it back.”
He searched her face, but she was quiet. Expressionless. The only visible sign of her thoughts were her eyes, locked on the ring, and her hand, clenched tight around the panels of her skirts.
His heart pounded heavily in his chest. But he waited. He let her have her silence, let her brilliant mind wrap around what he was giving her, whom it had belonged to. Let her wade through the layers of her grief, all those emotions he knew she fought to keep at bay.
Finally, she lifted a hand, fingers trembling slightly. She traced the delicate silver band and the small purple-blue stone set in the middle.
“It was how I knew,” she said, barely more than a whisper.
“When I first met you, even when I hated you, even when you were arrogant and an asshole, it was how I knew. You had eyes that matched my mother’s ring, a ring my father had made using a stone he’d found himself on a northern tour.
My family didn’t have much, but we had my grandfather’s dagger…
and this ring. When Donnet collected taxes, my mother parted with that dagger before she parted with this ring.
” She swallowed. “She hardly ever wore it. That was how closely she guarded it. So why was she wearing it that day?”
“I don’t know, nio.”